Perception
by The Second Coming
Summary: AU: She had been taught all her life that demons were dangerous, and then one night she found out for herself just how dangerous they could be.
1. Conception

**Title:** Perception

**Rating:** PG-13 (T)

**Warnings:** AU, and a tiny bit of bloodshed.

**Notes****: **I've never written a proper AU fic before, so this is a first. I'm actually not overly fond of them, as I tend to be a bit of a stickler for canon, however I have found a few that I've liked. This was written for the iyficcontest on LJ, for which the prompt this week was "AU". So, I figured, what the heck, and wrote one. Now, as some strange and ironic form of justice, the plot bunnies are literally chewing on my ankles with this.

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_Part I: Conception_

--

When Kagome Higurashi was fifteen she met a demon.

Years worth of warnings flashed through her mind, reminding her of all the things she'd been raised to believe. _Demons are dangerous_. Her mother had said it first. When she was four she'd run ahead in the park and got lost. It had been nightfall before she was found by concerned searchers. She remembered it vividly, because it was the only time she'd seen her mother cry. Her mother had grabbed her and clung to her frantically afterwards, smothering her with kisses and reprimands. "I was afraid that you'd been taken by a demon," her mother had said. She was curious then what a demon was, and why her mother was so afraid of them. After that day the word demon filled her with trepidation as she recalled how afraid her own mother had been at the mere thought of one.

As she grew up the subject of demons was broached in school. Demon safety, was, of course, a mandatory part of schooling. It was then that she learned that some demons looked like people. The low-level demons were easy to fear — they looked like predators. But when she looked at the images in her text book of taiyoukai all she saw was a person. After all, how could something that looked so similar, be so different?

She asked her father once why demons were bad. He'd looked up from his newspaper, blinked several times in rapid succession, cleared his throat several times and said finally, "why do you ask?"

"They look like us. Why aren't they good like us?"

"They're demons," he'd said, and with exaggerated motions he returned to his newspaper. To Kagome it had been an unsatisfactory answer. "It's in their nature, Higurashi_," _her teacher had said, when she asked. "Don't ask silly questions_." _She was unsure what to make of that. She did not yet know that what could not be understood and controlled was often, by its very nature, feared and condemned.

When she saw him for the first time she knew he was dangerous. He was slouched slightly, leaning against the Goshinboku, a widening patch of crimson staining his white shirt. Even injured he extruded raw power. It tickled her senses, causing goose-pimples to break out all up and down her arms and legs, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck to stand up. She felt like every fibre of her being was screaming out in protest to her proximity to this creature. _Dangerous_. The word repeated like a mantra, thrumming in every cell of her body.

Slowly, so slowly that it made her knees shaking in terror, he turned to look at her. He was unmistakably inhuman. Gone were the days when she looked at the harmless photos in her text books and naïvely assumed that having two legs, two arms, opposable thumbs, two eyes, a nose and a mouth made them even remotely human. This uncontrollable, _dangerous_ creature was staring straight at her, his blood-red eyes shining unnaturally in the darkness of the night. He gave a low, menacing growl.

She should have run. Run back to the house as fast as she could, slammed the door and hoped desperately that the sutras would hold.

Instead she did the opposite. Despite that all of her common sense, her instincts and her knowledge was telling her to get as far away from this creature as possible, her soul was drawn to him. He was obviously injured, and in a great deal of pain. And if there was one thing Kagome Higurashi could not stand, it was someone in pain. She'd been rescuing animals since she could walk; bringing them home in shoe-boxes and blankets and nursing them persistently. On some level, she considered him the same. He was in obvious need of help, and she was unable to turn away.

So she held her hands up to prove she was unarmed, and inched forward slowly.

"You're hurt," she said quietly. "Please, I want to help."

The growling increased in volume, and he bared a set of white and very sharp-looking fangs. It was a clear sign in any language. She ignored it resolutely, pushing her fear aside.

"Please," she said again, inching forward still. "Please let me help you." Very slowly she reached up and pulled off the blue silk scarf she was wearing. She held it out in front of her and stretched out her arm towards him.

He watched her carefully now, still growling so deeply that she could swear that she felt it in her bones. Yet he did not move, so she reached out and pressed the scarf to his wound. His body jerked, and his arm twitched and moved towards her at near-impossible speed, stopping inches from her head.

Wide-eyed and shaking she stared at the razor-sharp nails hovering ominously near her head.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly. "I have to stop the bleeding."

He remained perfectly still.

"Can you hold this?" she asked quietly. "I'll get some bandages and water to clean this. Stay here, I'll be right back."

His hand appeared, as if out of nowhere, to cover her own. She jumped at the unexpected contact, pulling her hand away out of instinct. Her skin tingled where he'd touched her, almost painfully. _Dangerous_, her mind supplied. She scrambled backwards inelegantly, disconcerted by the way his eyes followed her every movement. Nervously she stood, trying desperately to quell the shaking in her limbs.

"I'll be right back," she said again, before turning and running back into the house.

When she returned, her arms full of bandages and gauze, he was gone. She searched for him, but found almost no trace that he'd even been there in the first place.

When her mother asked her what had happened to the scarf, she said she'd lost it. With a huff of disappointment her mother had turned and tossed over her shoulder, "you should learn to be more careful with things, Kagome."

———

When she was young her parents and teachers had often praised her for her compassion. _Kagome is such a lovely child_. She'd heard those words often enough as she stood obediently by her mother's leg, waiting to be taken home. _Always wanting to help_. She couldn't not help. Compassion was her greatest fault.

She knew on some level that it was a foolish thing to have done. But to not have done it, to not have helped when she could have, would have destroyed her. It was the right thing to do. But if you do the right thing for the wrong person, is it still right?

She'd tried to forget about him. It would have been easier, she supposed, if she'd never seen him again. But two months after what she had deemed 'the incident', she looked out her window and saw him standing stiffly under the Goshinboku. She'd nearly screamed, stopping herself at the last moment, and stood there staring at him, her hand pressed over her racing heart. It would have been easier to believe he was simply and illusion if it had only happened once.

She'd gone down to him. Again she'd broken the rules ingrained in her memory since she was four. But this time she had no good deed to fulfil, simply curiosity. She hoped desperately that she would not wind up like the cat.

She stood just outside the doorway of her house, ready to turn and flee back to the safety of the indoors at a moments notice. He simply stood there staring at her, his eyes keenly visible even from a distance. He seemed more human to her now, or, perhaps, simply better hidden. Everything about him screamed composure. From the way every strand of his silky silver hair was perfectly in-place, to the carefully blank expression on his regal face, and the crisp, orderly state of his clothes. Nervously she wrung her hands behind her back, and waited. She could feel his eyes on her, as the took in her appearance. All of a sudden her blue pyjamas with the smiling penguins seemed woefully inadequate. She blushed as he raked his gaze up the contours of her body, so agonisingly slowly, before looking, at last, into her eyes.

Suddenly she was lost.

When she regained her senses she was alone, and a single blue scarf lay at her feet.


	2. Awareness

**Notes:** A big thank-you to everyone who read and reviewed chapter one of this. I expect that this will be in three parts (which means it should be completed soon).

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_**Part II: Awareness**_

—

When Kagome Higurashi was sixteen she learned how dangerous demons could be.

Life, as they say, goes on. She had hidden the scarf under he pillow, and would occasionally play with it when she was feeling pensive. It had become a comforting habit for her. Without thinking she would run her fingers over the soft silk, kneading it gently, while she did her homework.

When she'd first picked it up it had smelt like him. It was an undeniably masculine scent — one that she was unaccustomed to, and one that made her grin, and sent her heart beating wildly. She still imagined that she could smell it, from time to time, though the scent was long gone from the scarf itself.

She dreamt of him often. Usually just small flashes from her memories, so fleeting that she was unable to process them. Magenta stripes caressing an elegant white wrist, sharp nails hovering ominously near her head. A dark blue crescent moon, the flash of red eyes, then twin pools of liquid gold. She'd often wake suddenly, breathing heavily, trying to remember the fleeting images she'd seen.

She began to keep a dream journal. She locked it, and hid it in her bottom drawer. She had no desire for anyone to know about her encounter with him. She was certain that they wouldn't understand. How could they understand, when she didn't understand herself?

Thumbing through her journal, she found a blank page. She grabbed the pen, releasing it from where she'd trapped it between her teeth. Frantically she began to write.

_Magenta stripes. Silver hair. A swishing sound (cloth?). A feeling… _

Even in her dreams his presence haunted her. The unmistakable, over-shadowing feeling of raw power. It lurked in the back of her mind, and hung like a dark cloud over her dreams. She doubted that she would ever be free of it. She hadn't decided if she wanted to be.

Her friends began to worry about her. To them, however, Kagome was simply odd. Kagome knew better. Kagome was _tainted_. She'd broken the golden rule: always avoid demons. None of her friends would have helped a demon, she mused as she watched them happily munch on a bag of crisps that they were sharing. They'd never comforted the devil under the pale moonlight. If none of her classmates had done such a thing, or would even consider _doing_ such a thing, then Kagome was left with only one conclusion: if nothing was wrong with them, then something must be wrong with _her_.

"What about that guy?" Eri asked her, pointing at a boy in the corner with a salt and vinegar crisp. "He's cute."

_Cute_. How do you settle for cute, when you've felt the thrill of danger?

"C'mon, you've got to show an interest in this sort of thing," Eri said seriously. Yuka and Ayumi beside her nodded emphatically. "Isn't there _anyone_ who you find attractive?"

_Silver hair, golden eyes. That _feeling_…_

She shivered. _Wrong_. How had everything gone so _wrong_?

When she was alone she'd start to wonder about the nature of her wickedness. Had she been born this way? Was it fate that had drawn her to him, that led her to help him, and that bound her to him now?

She hadn't expected to ever see him again. But she should have known that anything to do with him was bound to be unexpected.

She had nearly grown accustomed to his state as a persistent fragment of memory in her life when he showed up again. She came stumbling out of the storage shed, covered in dust and wearing her rattiest pair of sweats. It was a small prickling sensation at the back of her neck that alerted her first. A part of her had known what she would find, but that didn't stop her from jumping in surprise when she saw him standing under the Goshinboku. He almost looked as if he'd never moved from the last time she'd seen him.

She stared at him, mouth gaping, not quite able to process the fact that he was actually _there_. As she watched the wind caught a few tendrils of his long, silver hair and waved them lazily in the breeze. She was overcome with the sudden urge to reach out and touch them.

Again, against her better judgement, she began to move forwards. There was no growling this time, no baring of fangs, and no warnings. There was simply _him_, and her. Cautiously she reached out and grazed her fingers lightly over the hair at his temple. It was unbelievably soft, and flowed almost like water through her fingers. Still he didn't move, he simply gazed impassively down at her.

Emboldened by his lack of reaction she reached up further and ran her fingers fully through his hair. It was to _die _for. And, she mused, it's likely that anyone else who tried would die for it. The full significance of that thought passed her by for the moment, but was not lost on the silent demon who, after years of untameable ruthlessness, surrendered himself to the curious and gentle ministrations of one human girl.

Gently she pushed his hair behind his ear, delightedly finding that it was pointed. She ran a finger down the edge of it, tracing its contours. She didn't even notice when his eyes slipped closed in contentment, as she was now fully focused on her explorations. She ran her fingers gently over the markings on his cheekbones, noting that the skin seemed marginally warmer under them than elsewhere. Experimentally she traced the blue crescent moon on his forehead, and noticed that the same was true of that marking.

In a moment of sudden clarity she realised exactly what it was she was doing. With a sharp gasp she pulled her hand away as if his skin had burnt her. She had been _touching_ a demon.

With a languid casualness that belied his true awareness he opened his eyes and focused them on her.

"Are you frightened, girl?" His voice suited him perfectly, rolling like velvet off his tongue. It made her stomach leap with excitement and nervousness.

"Yes," she whispered, licking her suddenly very dry lips.

He scrutinised her again, his eyes flicking across her form rapidly, before settling back on her own eyes. His eyes narrowed fractionally, but he seemed to find what it was he was looking for. With a slight tilt of the head, which she took as a small nod, he brushed past her faster than she could track and was gone. As soon as he'd left she fled back to her room and hid under the covers like a frightened child.

There are many kinds of danger. She had always been taught to fear demons because they could harm her. She had thought, foolishly, that death was all she had to fear from them.

She knew now that she was wrong.

She would never again be completely satisfied. Everything in her life had become menial in comparison to the mere snippets of him that she treasured so secretly. She had withdrawn into herself, preferring to live only on the memory of him, than on what life had to offer.

It was a downwards spiral, and one that she couldn't avoid any more than she could have avoided helping him in the first place. _Compassion_. It was compassion, in the end, that had brought her here.

Once you've touched such a being you cannot go back.

_That_ was the true danger.

It was a pity that no one had warned her.


	3. Understanding

**Notes:** I regret to announce, this is the end of _Perception_. However, if you liked this piece, keep an eye out for a companion piece I'm planning to write soon. I wanted to stick a bit of smut in here somewhere (my hentai muse decided to pitch in about halfway through writing this), but I'd already put the rating for this as T, and didn't want to up it halfway through and possibly scare readers off who weren't expecting it.

So I'll be posting that as a companion piece once I get it written. I'm also toying with the idea of an epilogue, but that will likely be incorporated into the companion piece, so I make no promises.

Last but not least, a very large thank-you to everyone who dropped a review for this over the last couple days (this has probably been the shortest time it's ever taken me to complete a fic XD).

Love,

The Second Coming

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_**Part III: Understanding**_

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When Kagome Higurashi was seventeen she forgot what it meant to be human.

Few things in life were praised more than humanity. Humanity was an ideal, most humans lacked it. Demons and humans had always been different. It was those differences that were emphasised, and feared.

_Demons are dangerous_.

They hadn't been wrong. She knew it, she _understood_ it. But they hadn't been _right_ either, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of that. There was no doubt that demons could easily tear a human to shreds in minutes, and that most most would. There was no doubt that _he_ could easily destroy her with a quick flick of his deadly claws. Physically, they were stronger, and faster — and natural predators.

Demons are dangerous was a lesson that deserved to be learned.

So why did it feel so _wrong_? Why did it make her want to stand in the middle of the street and scream that everyone was blind? Why did she want to throw her old textbooks across the room and curse them for their simplicity? Why did every mention of the word 'demon' grate on her nerves, and make her want to tear her hair out?

It all came down to contrast.

She never read the newspaper. Current affairs had never held an interest for her, and she found it served only to depress her. She hadn't noticed that her avoidance of life had become extreme over the past two years.

It was the headline that caught her attention as she lazily poured milk on her cereal. _Mother and Three Children found dead in Downtown Apartment_. Apparently it had been a robbery gone wrong.

_Demon_. The word flashed through her mind suddenly and she paused, her cereal-laden spoon half-way to her mouth. _Demon_. What _was_ a demon, anyway? She'd assumed that it was merely the physical characteristics that set them apart — but what divided the man who had been willing to murder a woman and three children for a stereo, from a demon who would do the same for food?

Pushing away the bowl of cereal, she decided that she wasn't hungry.

Human nature was something of an oddity. Humans, unlike any other animal on the planet, had extremes on both ends. Hatred, revenge, torture — those were all human inventions. Human ideas. _Humanity's_ work. But then again, so was kindness, and _love_. Humanity believed itself to be above all other forms of life because of these things, but didn't demons feel the same?

The scarf under her pillow was well worn, and had begun to become threadbare in places. Yet it was a gift — a thank-you from a creature reputed to be without emotion, and without higher thought. A gift from a monster.

She almost wished she'd never met him. Monsters don't make good friends.

To Kagome, the world was no longer black and white.

She'd known that he was there. Once again his presence had alerted her first, setting all of her senses on fire with anticipation. Still, wanting to prove something, even if she wasn't quite sure herself what it was, she waited patiently for him to announce himself.

So it wasn't entirely unexpected that he was now standing under the Goshinboku. The corner of her lip turned up in amusement. Perhaps he was a cat demon; he was clearly a creature of habit.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, leaning against the well-house doors.

When he didn't answer she tried a different tactic. "I've felt your presence here before. Several times within the last week, and again two weeks ago. Are you following me?"

He nodded slightly.

"Why?"

He seemed to ponder that for a moment before responding. "You intrigue me."

"The feeling's mutual."

He nodded again, however this one seemed almost amused. For someone whose expression rarely changed, he was certainly capable of a wide variety of gestures, she mused.

"What should I call you?" she asked finally.

"Taiyoukai-sama."

She blinked, and bit back a snort.

"Taiyoukai-_sama_?" she asked, pointedly. "I'd rather not. You may call me Kagome, if you wish." His eyes narrowed slightly, and his posture tensed.

"I am a demon," he said flatly. Not, of course, that he didn't usually say things flatly, but she was pretty sure that this was somewhat flatter than his usual flat. She had a sinking suspicion that he was angry. "This bothers you?"

"Yes." The word came out as an exhale, and lingered in the air like a spectre. The gap between them had widened.

It was a strange line, between demon and human. At times it seemed to disappear completely, allowing the two to be interchangeable in her mind, yet at times the divide seemed so wide that she would never be able to see across it. Looking at him now, she knew, demons and human would never be the same.

They were not black and white. Demon did not automatically equal an enemy. But neither did it automatically equal a friend. Demons, like people, were unique, each presenting their own danger. But they were not people. They would never _be_ people.

This demon had destroyed her, without ever even lifting a finger. And yet, at the end of it all, she'd learned more than her friends and family ever would. The tragic irony remained: that the only thing that could ever teach her to be human, was a being that wasn't.

"Sesshoumaru," he said suddenly, his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly to the side, as if scrutinising her thoughts. She got the feeling that he had a fairly good idea what she was thinking. "You may call me Sesshoumaru."

She smiled at him for the first time. "Thank-you, Sesshoumaru." She added a polite bow, for the heck of it. He wasn't human, but that no longer mattered.

_Peace_.

She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. The conflict that had plagued her conscience since she was a child had finally lifted. It was like learning to breathe again.

He turned abruptly in a graceful swirl of cloth, and began to walk away.

"Will you come back sometime?" she called out suddenly, causing him to stop and look back.

After a long moment he nodded sharply.

"I'd like that," she said. She thought she saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise, but before she could be sure he was gone, fading swiftly into the darkness of the night.

When she got back inside she pulled the worn scarf out from under her bed, and tucked it away in the closet.

--

_Finis._

**Note**: The sequel to this is posted. It's titled _Divergence_ and can be found through my profile.


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